


salt on the tail

by deadwalldraw



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Other, Oviposition, Tentacles, Xeno, thoroughly inaccurate octopus anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadwalldraw/pseuds/deadwalldraw
Summary: Dead girls were walking, a good day had been ruined, and now a squid was getting frisky with her.Even by her standards, this was beyond the pale.
Relationships: Octopus Queen/Pirate Queen Who Really Hates Tentacles/Jilted Governor's Daughter Out For Revenge
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	salt on the tail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



Julian leaned back on the deck of the Black Eel, kicking one leg up over the other.

As she enjoyed the kiss of the afternoon sun, Edward and Martin hefted the clinking trunk off of the little boat. Carrying it easily between the two of them, they headed into the dark mouth of the grotto. 

This far from the mainland and the rotten nest of the pirate havens, the air was clean and sweet with the rich scent of tropical vegetation. A decent chunk of plunder was being stashed away, and if even her strapping assistants were not entirely trustworthy, they were at the very least stupid enough for her to shoot in the back when the three of them got back to the mainland. 

The weather was clement. The last raid had gone off without a hitch, save for a scratch on her cheekbone that would surely leave a rather fetching scar. After her favourite girl in the Dirty Parrot had given her a tip involving eggs and coconuts, her hair was looking particularly excellent. Martin was drowning. Back on the mainland, she had a bottle of the best worst Spanish wine waiting for her. Life was good for a pirate.

Wait.

Julian shot to her feet, staring over the edge of the little schooner. Through the waves, she saw the dim, wavering figure of someone struggling in the water in front of the grotto's mouth. 

How did Martin get in the water? Where had the trunk gone? Where was Edward? And, again, the trunk? Julian lifted her head to stare into the murky entrance of the grotto across from the boat, but there were no answers in sight. Her two stupid assistants had somehow managed to screw up a task as simple as carrying a trunk into a cave. Was he caught in a strange rip? 

"Shit." She stepped up on the schooner's edge, ready to jump– and then stepped back hastily to take off her boots. They were very nearly new, after all, and getting waterlogged would do them no favours. Then, for the sake of preserving the feathers tucked into its band, she took off her hat and set it aside. And, since she was already there, it was no unreasonable thing to pause to empty her pockets of anything that wasn't waterproof...

What pirate worth their salt couldn't hold their breath for an extra moment or two, anyway? 

Eventually, the favourite pieces of her ensemble safely left behind, Julian dived over the edge. Martin was still where she'd last seen him, struggling vigorously still. Salt water stung her eyes, but she could make out Martin's writhing form, struggling in the water

Kicking down, she reached out a hand to grab stupid Martin by his stupid coat, fingers outstretched...

Instead of fabric, her hand bunted up against something solid.

In a warping flurry of chromatophores, the image of a drowning man blurred out of existence, and in its wake was the dark line of a tentacle.

A big, _big_ tentacle.

 _Fuck!_ Terror spiked sharp through her veins, jerking her back before she came to her senses. She kicked away as sharply as she could, but even without boots and coat to weigh her down, the tentacle was faster. It latched around her middle like a band of iron, squeezing hard enough to make her vision flash white.

Julian had imagined dying in a number of ways– being shot on a raid, backstabbed by a cowardly associate, a marathon session at the Parrot– but being drowned by a kraken had not been one of them.

But the thing didn't ultimately appear to have that in mind, either. As Julian struggled against it, trying to pry its grip on her loose, the thing dragged her backwards into the grotto, and then, blessedly, up to where the water ran shallow enough for her to break the surface. She hit the air with a desperate gasp, her vision throbbing and narrowed to grey.

The thing dragged her back deeper into the grotto, ignoring her thrashing in the shallows, until the light from the outside had grown dim– and then, without warning, it stopped.

Julian looked up.

The creature was huge. Even with the mass of its body sunk down into the waters of the grotto, Julian could tell that it stood at least twice the size of a man. Each strange sheep-slitted eye, yellow as sulphur, was the size of Julian's head. 

As she stared at it in horror, the beast stared back– and then a blurry mirror of her own face was staring at her, too, picked out in shimmering, moving patterns on the slippery canvas of its skin. Julian let out a strangled shriek, and the painted mirror of her face opened its mouth noiselessly in tandem.

As her heart raced, it took Julian a moment to recognise what she was looking at.

"A fucking squid?"

"An octopus."

Julian whipped her head towards the sound of a human voice, her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom of the grotto. "Who's there?"

Just slightly behind the creature were the terminally waterlogged bodies of Edward and Martin, and, worse, the trunk. And as much as Julian hated to draw her eyes away from that, next to it was…

"You," snarled Julian.

"Me," said the young woman. She was naked as a bird, every inch of her spare figure on display, peppered with scars. Although Julian usually enjoyed such things, even she had to admit that now was not the time to appreciate the sight. For one, the she-devil was stealing from her. For two, the squid was squeezing her like a pup with a new toy. Now that she was in front of the beast, more tentacles were prodding at her. Scowling, she kicked at them, and they retreated like scolded dogs– only to return back to their curious exploration a moment later, uncowed.

The woman stood up from her work stripping poor dead Edward's pitiful naked body, her arms full of clothes, and smirked down at her prize. "After all this time, I bet you'd never thought you'd see me again."

"What was your name again?"

For a moment, the only sound in the grotto was the soft slap of waves and the almost imperceptible soft slither of tentacle running over tentacle. Then, without warning, the woman threw a boot straight at Julian.

"Fuck!" howled Julian, reeling. Pain flared over her skull in lashing waves, her temple throbbing where the heel had hit her. "What was that for?!"

"Ruth Earnshaw! As in Governor Earnshaw? Is that ringing any bells, or has your collection of assorted lover's poxes finally robbed you of the last of your senses?"

Ah. That was it. Memories of a happier time arose underneath the throbbing of Julian's head. The raid on the governor's manor, the winsome young woman that clung to her, enamored by her kidnap, the way that she'd later clung to Julian in her quarters as she was pressed down against the sheets...

Another, less rosy memory occurred to Julian. From the sour look on Ruth's face, it hadn't slipped her mind as easily as it had slipped Julian's.

"You shot me," Ruth snarled.

Julian managed to roll her upper body up out of the water enough to glare at Ruth. "Yes, after you tried to stab me!"

In any other circumstances, the look of incandescent rage on Ruth's face would have been worth savouring. "You deserved it! I was just a stupid little girl in love, but then there you were with another woman, after I gave up _everything_ for you… of course I reacted poorly! But then you left me here _alone_ to _die_..."

For a moment, she looked just like the soft young woman that Julian remembered sweeping out of the manor window in her arms. Then the moment passed, and Julian was left staring up at the tanned, lean, scarred stranger wearing that girl's face.

And her giant pet squid.

"She's not my pet," Ruth patiently explained, after a bout of particularly creative cursing had finished echoing off of the grotto walls. She sat down by the water's edge and began to pull on Edward's pants, then Martin's boots. "She was already living here when you dumped my body. I just bring her treats from time to time." Ruth looked approvingly at the mass of tentacles that was curling like a nest of eager vipers around Julian, and cocked her head to the side. "Well, we did just work together on ambushing you and your goons, so I suppose if anything, we're now really more like crewmates."

The tip of one tentacle teased at Julian's shirt, writhing back and forth over the thick ivory buttons. Then, with no regard to fashion, it found a gap between them and slipped inside, the thicker length of it tearing her shirt open.

"Fuck!" Julian panted, struggling uselessly as her favourite buttons sunk under the water's surface. The tentacle was cold as the grave, colder than the water she was submerged in, and it left winding swathes of gooseflesh in its wake as it wound back and forth across her ribcage.

"She does that," Ruth continued, too busy twisting her boots back and forth to look up. "Darn, I forgot how it feels to wear shoes. Oh, they do pinch so..."

"I'm sure that you will one day recover from this tragedy," Julian ground out, as the tentacle groped over her breasts. "What have you been teaching this thing? Call off your dog."

Ruth hopped up to grind the toes of her new boots against the ground experimentally. "Like I said, she's not mine. She's just really very fond of humans. You learn to get used to it. She won't hurt you." She tossed her hair behind her and began to shrug Martin's coat over her skinny shoulders.

Julian hissed as the tentacle ran over her nipples, seemingly entranced by their hardness. Its crew of comrades ran across her body over the top of her sodden clothes, squeezing in fits and bursts, holding her still despite how much she thrashed. In happier, less seafood-plagued times, Julian had once had a tryst with a woman who liked to use ropes; this sensation was some strange cousin to that, if ropes had had minds of their own and a scent that turned her stomach. She shuddered with loathing, flinching from each curious squeeze.

Dead girls were walking, a good day had been ruined, and now a squid was getting frisky with her. Even by her standards, this was beyond the pale. When a tentacle prodded at her face, she bit it savagely, and was rewarded by the creature flashing a bright alarmed yellow up along its tentacle all the way back to its stupid looming face. "You don't like that, huh? Then you'd better keep your legs to yourself."

Ruth leaned over to give the thing's wet flank a supportive pat. "Don't listen to her. That'd be no fun at all."

Could it understand human speech? Julian's eyes glanced between the beast, flushing a sweetheart pink where Ruth's hand had touched, and the expression on Ruth's face. "Well, well," Julian drawled, keeping her voice as cool as she could, as if what felt like a dozen tentacles weren't currently roaming over her body. "I know you must have been lonely after I left you, but seeking solace in the arms of _this_? Tsk tsk. They have songs about this sort of thing, you know. They're not particularly nice ones."

A flash of anger rose in Ruth's cold eyes, but she bit back whatever furious thing she was about to spit. Instead, she smiled, her mouth tight and her eyes flinty. "Well, I guess you're about to find out how accurate those songs really are."

"You know me," Julian said, "there's no song too bawdy for my tastes." She felt a small blaze of pride at how well she was keeping her back straight and her voice unbroken. That pride lasted for rather less time than she'd hoped, however; despite herself, when a tentacle moved to lash itself between her thighs and over a hip, the length of it squeezing, she let out a strangled whimper.

From above Julian came the sound of a sigh. When she managed to open her eyes and look up, Ruth was squatting by the water's edge, looking down at her plight with something like sympathy on her face.

"Poor stupid thing," she murmured, with affection in her voice, and then immediately dashed any hopes that Julian had riding on that by following it with, "she never could figure out buttons."

As the beast held Julian's struggling body taut, Ruth leaned over to pop the buttons on Julian's breeches and tugged them down over her thighs. When Julian spat a mouthful of saltwater at her, she gave one bared thigh a ringing slap. "Don't be a baby. There are worse things in life."

"Like being left for dead on a deserted island?"

Ruth gazed at Julian with half-lidded eyes. "Quite."

Julian hissed, trying to kick out against the mass of tentacles holding her legs, but the sheer muscled mass of the creature was unfazed. A tangle of tentative tentacle tips began to explore this new territory, running ticklish along the insides of her thighs, squeezing to tug her legs further apart. When one brushed a curious tip against her cunt, she gasped in alarm, her hips trying to jerk away to no avail.

 _Fuck_. "This… does it really... did you...?"

"See how much of a fight you can put up against her now? Try to imagine doing that after your slavering hound of a lover has given you a gunshot wound to the belly." Ruth shrugged in her oversized coat, looking bored. "Still, she means no harm. She'll let you up eventually."

Before Julian could figure out what to say in response to that, the fucking creature was _in_ her. She whined as it pushed further in, sinking home. The cold intrusion felt like nothing else, cruelly stripping her of the option of shutting her eyes and trying to pretend that it was a particularly icy pair of fingers, or perhaps a very curiously-shaped toy.

It was cold. It was awful. It sunk in deep inside her, stretching her open around it, filling her belly. As she tried to writhe away from it, it pushed forward and gave her even more in a back-and-forth rocking dance until she gave in, fit to burst, and collapsed into its coiling grasp with a cry. The thing moved in and out of her cunt with what felt like playful pleasure, colours rising and falling on the beast's body, those alien eyes unreadable above her bared body.

Just when Julian thought that she was getting a handle on the experience, ready to rise above it, another of the damned things poked at her. This time, it was the one slithering around her throat. She growled and snapped at it, but the thing remained unbothered; the tip pressed against her chin, teasing upwards, somehow managing to avoid the snapping of her teeth.

It was unfair for such a large creature to be able to move so fast, really. In the space between one bite and the next, the thing forced its tip into her mouth. Julian tried to bite down, but the sleek muscle forced its way in too deep too fast, leaving her gagging around the heavy weight pressing down on her tongue.

She groaned piteously as the thing filled her mouth, its length curling in a shallow undulating wave. The intrusion was no better for not being in her cunt, leaving her trembling helplessly. As she moaned around it, the tentacles moved in rhythm, sliding eagerly in and out of her cunt and mouth, other tentacles slapping at her skin, slipping wet and slick across her breasts and thighs and rear.

It was overwhelming, too much for a person to handle. Julian braced herself, breathing hard, but it was too little, too late. She came with a series of wracking cries, her body shaking like a sail in storm winds, her cunt clenching at every inch of the thing inside her.

"Oh, good show!" Ruth said, looking up from filling her pockets with the loot from the trunk.

Ruth was in a dead man's stolen clothes, lean and muscular from her abandonment in the wild, with the scar of Julian's gunshot on her belly and hatred burning bright in her eyes. A stolen necklace was spilling from her pocket, glimmering in the light reflecting from the water. Gazing up at her in a post-climax haze, a sea monster fucking her six ways from Sunday, Julian thought that Ruth was the most beautiful thing that she'd ever seen.

Another tentacle writhed its way up between her parted thighs, but unlike the one currently fucking her into insensibility, this one wrapped around the inside of her leg to curl the other way, tracing against the curve of Julian's rear, and then upwards–

Julian let out a muffled shout.

"Yes," said Ruth, "she does do that, the curious thing."

It was an onslaught, and all of Julian's wits had fled her. All that Julian could do was struggle as the tentacle pressed against the resistance of her body, and then all too easily slid inside her ass. She'd let the girls in the Parrot stick their fingers anywhere that they pleased, but this was a world apart from that experience, the tentacle thick and slick and driving into her body to fill her past her capacity.

Julian groaned around the tentacle in her mouth, a helpless, wracked sound. For the first time in an age, she felt the beginnings of tears prick at her eyes. Unexpectedly, from above her came a sigh. "Oh, you always were so dramatic," Ruth said, her tone of voice absolutely unfathomable, and then her fingers were on Julian's cunt.

If she'd had her wits about her, Julian would have fought Ruth's touch. Unfortunately, she had never had fewer wits rattling around in her skull than she did in that moment. Julian bucked up into the touch, desperate for it, the tips of Ruth's fingers sliding hard against the slick, throbbing mess of her tentacle-fucked cunt. 

Ruth trailed her fingers around the tentacle that was in her, as if admiring the girth of what the beast was giving her, and then she ran them up to rub against the aching peak of Julian's clit.

No-one had ever accused Julian of being hard to please, but coming in three rubs alone was new grounds entirely. Julian spasmed as it hit her, back arching and thighs trembling, and then she was gone, gasping for breath as the tentacle in her mouth slipped out, the echoes of her cries bouncing off of the grotto's walls.

She let herself drift as the beast worked her body with an even greater enthusiasm, and behind the safety of her closed eyes, visions of a past that could have been flitted by: staying after she'd dumped Ruth's apparently-not-dead-enough body on the island, watching with glee as Ruth was the one to get filled with tentacles, watching the giant creature ravage Ruth with its inscrutable pleasures instead. 

In the sweet bubble of this imaginary world, she would be the one egging the creature on, and she'd tug her breeches off and kneel in the shallow water to sit on Ruth's gasping mouth as tentacles curled inside her, driving her clit against Ruth's hot wet tongue as she cried out below her. If she did a good job, maybe Julian would take pity on Ruth and free her, and Julian would play as if she had saved Ruth from the beast instead of spurring it on. Maybe Julian would instead communicate with the creature, convincing it to keep Ruth wrapped up, to fit even more tentacles into each hole, keeping them inside Ruth for as long as Julian wished– and Julian could wish very hard indeed–

"Oh, look," Ruth chirped. "She must really like you!"

The bubble popped. It took a moment for Julian to find her tongue, dumb and numb under the onslaught. "She... what?"

Then she felt a blunt pressure pressing against the opening of her cunt, the tentacle pumping inside of her somehow changing in size. She writhed, twisting away from it, but the thing pressed harder and harder against her oversensitive hole– and then, with one strange sensation, the swelling was _inside_ her, travelling deeper, stretching her around it, leaving her howling.

"Is it fuckin' putting… putting a egg in me?" she slurred, her eyes wild.

Ruth's smug little fox face was pillowed on one hand as she watched. "Congratulations. You're going to be a mother."

"Oh, do stop that," Ruth chided a moment later, as curses and mouthfuls of spat water threatened to soak her new coat. "They're probably duds." She stroked the side of the beast affectionately. "Really, even I don't know what she's doing sometimes... do you think she was raised by humans, maybe? I've heard that sheep do the same thing."

Julian wanted to spit back _what kind of sheep lays eggs in people, you daft witch,_ but then another knot of pressure was sinking down along the tentacle inside her cunt, and then a matching pressure was rising to push bluntly against her ass, and her thighs were trembling too hard to stop.

It was too much, too much. Julian clung to the tentacles that were wrapped around her wrists, holding down on the slick muscle in a desperate white-knuckled grip. Her body jack-knifed in wild animal alarm as the creature fed egg after egg into her, gasping as the stretch sank deep, groaning when another rose to press against her. The cool waters of the grotto washed over her overheated body soothingly, and she focused on the pull-push pattern running over her until there was nothing left but the movement of the waves and the rhythm of pressure building impossibly, abating, building again...

What bought Julian back to sensibility was the sensation of fingers touching her face– real, human fingers, with knuckles, and nails, instead of more slick, seemingly unending tentacles. Ruth was leaning over her, softly brushing locks of sodden hair away from her face. The scene would have been tender, save for the giant monster currently fucking her holes.

"The sun's getting low," Ruth said, and there in the soft curve of her mouth Julian could see the girl that had spurred on her own kidnap all those years ago. She leant over and kissed Julian on the forehead, her lips cool and dry against the overheated mess of Julian's skin. 

Then the moment was over, and she got to her feet in her dead-men's boots. "So I'm going to take your boat now."

"I'm gonna kill you," Julian snarled, half-slurred and murderous. "Truly, this time."

"No-one else came to see what befell you, so you must have been running a lean crew again."

"I'm going to make it stick."

"The boat can't be far. The cove on the other side of that big pile of rocks? The one that looks a bit like a horse? Or did you just moor it straight outside? I may not be the most skilled sailor around, but the weather is good, and I'll give it my best. I like my odds."

"I'm going to fucking _burn_ you, let's see if your squid can get you out of that."

"She _will_ stop eventually. After that, well. I recommend rationing rainfall, and making sure to wait for fruit to ripen properly, no matter how tempting it may seem. After all," she smiled, "this is a very out-of-the-way island. Who knows how long it'll be before someone decides to pay another visit."

Ruth turned towards the creature, and with the ghost of an inexplicable smile on her face, leaned in towards it. Colours bloomed on the creature's skin, shifting and swirling, until they settled in the form of Ruth's own face, beaming. She pressed a kiss to the image of her own mouth, and the creature flushed pink. With a joyful surge, another egg pressed its way into Julian's body, leaving her shaking with a sudden sharp fury that she couldn't quite name.

With one last fond pat, Ruth began to walk towards the grotto entrance. "When you get away from her, please do remember to treat her nicely," she said over her shoulder, and there was laughter in her voice. "After all, there's nothing worse than an angry ex."


End file.
